


The Cloak of Feathers and Fur

by MapleleafCameo



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fairy Tale Style, M/M, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 06:37:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10238087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleleafCameo/pseuds/MapleleafCameo
Summary: Once Upon a Time there was a boy kind and true. He wished to marry for love, but his parents had other ideas. But that is only the beginning of the story.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [turifer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turifer/gifts).



> So I started to write a story based on The Princess and the Pea or more specifically The Princess and the Packet of Frozen Peas and I still will (because I have some truly funny lines) but it kept going in another direction. So here is this story, loosely based on several traditional Fairy Tales, most notably Thousand Furs (also known as Sapsorrow or The Donkey Skin but without the creepy father/daughter relationship:P), East of the Sun and West of the Moon, plus elements of others. I wrote this in the language of fairy tales so may seem a bit stilted. The rhythm of those tales has been stuck in my head because of all the reading I do of old tales:P If this style doesn't work for you, no worries:) This was more for me to see what I could do with it.  
> Thanks to mattsloved1 for looking this over!
> 
> The characters belong to the amazing [Ngozi](http://ngoziu.tumblr.com) and her lovely webcomic [Check, Please!](http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com)

Once upon a time, there lived a young man named Eric. A beautiful soul and caring too, as golden of heart as he was of hair and all who laid eyes upon him were influenced by his good nature. Young Eric sang in the morning and danced in the afternoon. In the winter evenings, he would skate on the frozen pond, and people would exclaim over the grace of his movements, as fluid and as lithe as a swan. The birds and the beasts were his friends, and he had but to put out his hand for them to alight there. If they were sick or wounded, he would care for them. He could set foot inside the kitchen of his house and but stir the soup or add a dash of salt to a dish, and all would exclaim over the richness of the flavors and the mastery of its presentation. When those who were ill ate his dishes, they were cured of whatever ailed them. His pies and deserts were the talk of the village, and any who were influential or rich would be served his creations.

 

Until the day his mother and father came to him and told him they had arranged for him to be married, he hadn’t a care in the world.

 

When they spoke of their news, he said, “If you have found someone kind and true, one whom I could love, I will marry them, no matter their station for I care not for riches.”

 

“Do not be ridiculous! You cannot marry someone for love!” his parents exclaimed. “We have found you a spouse, handsome and rich, someone who is pleased with your cooking. Your marriage will make our living easier, and the wealth they bring will be a comfort to us in our old age.”

 

“But I cannot marry for money, only for love.”

 

“Nonsense. It is as easy to marry for wealth as for love. Put your foolishness aside and meet your spouse.”

 

Eric fled to his room, threw himself upon the bed and cried out his heart. He had no desire to marry someone he did not or perhaps could not love.

 

He cried until there were no more tears. And then he thought of what he needed to do.

 

Later that evening, his parents knocked on his bedroom door.

 

“Dearest, come out and meet your spouse.”

 

“I will not meet my intended dressed like this. Commission for me three garments, one as golden as the sun, one as silver as the moon and one that sparkles like the stars.”

 

“Very well. But when they are ready, you shall be wed.”

 

While his garments were being made, he called to his friends of the forest. They came scurrying to his side through his open window.

 

“Little friends, weave for me a cloak of your fur and feathers so I may disguise myself.”

 

His little friends, who loved him so, plucked and preened and pulled feathers and fur and wove for Eric a magnificent cloak.

 

After a week, again a knock came upon his door.

 

“Dearest son, open the door for your clothing is ready, and you will come and meet your spouse.”

 

“Set them outside my door. I will dress and come down shortly.”

 

His parents left the clothes outside his door. After he heard them leave, he opened the door and gathered the garments, rolled them as small and tight as he could, stuffed them inside a knapsack. Taking with him a pair of skates, he wrapped himself in his cloak and left through his window.

 

He travelled many days, sleeping in barns and hay mounds, trees or empty caves, drinking water from streams and begging for food from friendly folk. At first, many were uncertain and scared of his appearance, for he constantly wore the cloak and kept his face in shadow, but when they spoke to him they were all overcome by his humble kindness and good heart.

 

One day, many weeks later, he travelled into the land belonging to a good and gracious King and Queen whose son lived under an enchantment. As he crossed into this new land, the weather turned instantly to winter, even though it had been summer a few steps before. Confused by the suddenness of the change, he searched for someone to ask. He came upon a friendly farmer and listened to the story he told.

 

“When our Prince was born,” said Farmer Murray, “no one in all the lands could be happier than our beloved King and Queen, for they had waited long for a child. And he was good and joyful and kind and faithful and grew into a handsome lad. One day the prince and his companions rode into a forest to hunt and make merry. They disappeared, and a search went out to find them. Weeks later, only the prince returned, with no memory of his adventure, but after a few days at home and seemingly overnight, the land turned dark, and summer became winter. A terrible spell had come upon the young prince. Neither music nor laughter nor any happiness could move him and as he became more miserable, so did the land. The King and Queen have issued a proclamation that the one who can lift him from this curse shall marry him. I hope that someone comes to help him soon, for he is a kind and generous lad and beloved in the land.”

 

“I am not here to marry, but perhaps I can help. I am a good cook, and there have been those who have said my cooking can cure the sick at heart.”

 

“Ah, there’s a good lad. If you go to the palace, go to the kitchen door and ask for Johnson. He is a friend of mine. Tell him Farmer Murray sent you. He will get you a place in the kitchen. After that, it’s up to you to prove your skill.”

 

“Thank you. I shall indeed try my hand.”

 

Farmer Murray watched the strange young man leave, wondering if their prince’s fate could perhaps be in the hands of such a creature.

 

Meanwhile, at the palace, dark days had indeed come over the land. The well-loved Prince Jack would not leave his room, and when anyone came to speak to him, he would refuse them entry. His parents, driven to distraction and sick of heart, were at a loss as to how to help their son and their people.

 

The proclamation they had sent out had brought many eager to claim the hand of the prince, but none were able to help him.

 

And then one bitterly cold day, with the snow swirling around the courtyard and the drifts higher than a horse, a strange young man, with a cloak made from the fur and feathers of many animals showed up at the kitchen door. The only things he had to his name beside the clothes he wore and the pack on his back were a pair of skates. Standing there, skates in hand, shy and half frozen, he asked if it would be possible to sleep by the fire and warm himself, perhaps have a bite to eat.

 

“If you are Johnson, I am to tell you Farmer Murray sent me to help you in the kitchen.”

 

The Head Cook, Johnson, took pity on him and let him in. He gave him a hot drink, a heel of bread and found him a blanket to wrap him.

 

He said, “It’s about time you showed up. We’ve been waiting for you to pick up the thread of this tale.”

 

Eric smiled and sipped his drink.

 

“I will not ask if you can cook, for I already know. When you have eaten your fill and warmed yourself, come and prepare a meal for Prince Jack. He will love it, and this will be the first step to breaking the spell.”

 

Bemused by the strange Cook, Eric, still in his cloak of feathers and fur, scrubbed his hands clean and prepared a simple meal for the prince of fresh greens, good soup, and bread just from the oven. He also made a small pie of winter apples.

 

The kitchen staff watched him, at first with scorn for his strangeness and then with awe for although the soup and bread and even the pie were simple food, the smell that came from them was incredible. Soon the kitchen was filled with chatter, not unlike that of Eric’s friends the birds, as more and more palace folk came to find out what was happening.

 

The meal ready, Cook Johnson asked Eric to take it to the Prince.

 

“No, I do not think that would be wise. Someone else should take it. I might scare the prince.”

 

“I see. Yes, that will work. Very good.”

 

He took the tray with the soup, the bread, and the pie up to the Prince. He knocked on the bedroom door.

 

“Go away! Leave me alone!”

 

“Of course, Your Highness. Certainly, but I have brought your evening meal. Will you not try it?”

 

“Leave it! And leave me!”

 

Johnson set the tray down and left, a confident smile on his face.

 

Prince Jack sat in the darkened room, alone and lost. He had no wish to be like this, but he couldn't seem to stop the dark and brooding musings that came upon him. He couldn't halt the cold in his heart that not only affected him but the land as well. He had no desire to make his parents unhappy, but it sucked him under in a churning mass of self-destruction.

 

The last time he had laughed or sang seemed so far away. His last clear thought of happiness had been when he had ridden into the forest with his friends. He had returned, but they had not. Try as he might, that part of his memory remained blank. Shortly after, the land changed as well.

 

As he sat there agonizing, a delightful smell entered the room and curled itself into his nostrils. For the first time in forever came the desire to take his hands from his hair and sit up. He walked to the door and opened it. His tray for his evening meal sat outside, as always but there were differences.

 

Instead of the usual elaborate meal, it was simple soup, some fresh greens, bread and a small pie.

 

Frowning, he brought the tray in and set it on his table. The smell was heavenly and a sense of hunger, which had been missing, came upon him. He ate and relished every bite. Afterward, he felt lighter than he had for days. The darkness still hovered on the edge of his mind, but the fear of it remained absent. He felt he could leave his room again. He had been in there for many, many weeks.

 

He walked his tray down to the kitchen and stood in the doorway. The kitchen staff all turned and gasped when they saw the Prince there.

 

“I have come to return the tray and to thank you, Cook Johnson, for the best meal I have had in days.”

 

“Your Highness. It is good to see you again, gracing my kitchen with your presence. It has been long since we have seen you.”

 

Prince Jack frowned. The darkness was a little closer, but it remained at bay.

 

“May I introduce you to the young man who made the meal?”

 

“It was not you? I have left strict instructions that you prepare my meals.”

 

The darkness was standing next to him.

 

“Aye, your Highness, I understand, but I thought perhaps this once you would enjoy a taste of something new. Young Eric Bittle, sir, he cooked your meal.”

 

Prince Jack, the darkness now perched upon his shoulder, eyed the strange creature of fur and feathers and bowed stiffly to Eric. “Thank you, Bittle. Your meal was what I needed.” He paused in thought, looked at the floor. “I would ask you to prepare my meal for tomorrow night as well.” He turned abruptly and left the kitchen, fleeing back to his rooms before the darkness could overtake him.

 

The folk in the palace, where rumor and gossip fly faster than birds, spoke of the miraculous if short transformation of the Prince. They spoke too of the strange creature that had cooked the simple meal for the Prince and wondered if it would happen again.

 

The next day, Eric once more prepared a simple meal of soup, fresh greens and fresh bread, and a small pie.

 

Johnson brought it to the Prince’s quarters, left it outside his door and returned to the kitchen. Again the Prince returned the tray and stayed a few moments longer in the kitchen, chatting.

 

Night after night the Prince returned the tray, staying longer and in much better spirits, but spoke only with Johnson and Eric until it was time for him to flee back to his room before the darkness overtook his mind.

 

The King and Queen soon took notice and called for Eric to visit them, asking that he bring them one of his simple meals. He did, and they were astonished at how good everything tasted. But in spite of that, they had concerns over the strange man who stood before them.

 

King Robert asked, “Why do you wear that cloak? You do not have sinister plans for our son, do you?”

 

“No, Your Majesty. I am dressed like this because I do not want my parents to find me. They wished for me to marry someone I did not love and I ran from home.”

 

“Do you know about our proclamation? That whoever can cure Prince Jack of his melancholy shall marry him? If you were to cure him and break the spell of winter, you could have his hand? Is that not the same? For you would marry someone whom you may not yet love.” asked Queen Alicia.

 

“I do not seek to marry your son. I cook for him out of kindness. Folk say that my cooking can cure many ills so I thought I should try. I have been fortunate that during these nights I have served your son I have gradually come to know him. I can see he is capable of kindness and is a good man. Perhaps as I grow to know him, I could love him. But I can tell he is not yet cured for the land is still under this same strange enchantment.”

 

King and Queen, pleased with his answers, dismissed him.

 

More weeks passed, and undeniably, Eric found himself slowly falling in love with the Prince. Or at least the Prince he saw in the kitchen. The Prince who lived in his rooms was a stranger to him.

 

One day, the King and Queen held a ball, for although they liked Eric, he had not yet cured their son, and they were growing desperate. They invited all those who were eligible to come in the hope that someone could finally break the spell.

 

The night of the ball came. Eric stayed in the kitchen, creating tempting desserts and dishes for the guests. When the food had been cooked and served, Johnson came to him and said, “Now is your chance. Throw off your disguise and go out and dance with Prince Jack.”

 

Eric washed and scrubbed off the soot from the kitchen, pulled out his garment as golden as the sun and dressed. Johnson snuck him out and around to the palace gates, and Eric strode through, head held high.

 

The guards astonished to see such an important and handsome man come to the palace let him through. As he stood in the doorway of the ballroom, all eyes were drawn to him, and the music stopped.

 

Prince Jack, dressed all in black, sitting alone and lost on the dais, lifted his head to see what had caused the cessation of noise. The light from the candles played upon Eric’s garment, making it shine like the sun. Colour returned to Jack’s face, and he rose to greet him. Eric crossed the floor and bowed when he reached the Prince. Jack came down the steps, held out his hand and swept Eric into his arms. The music started again, and they danced, how they danced, all through the rest of the night. Prince Jack’s eyes never left Eric’s face and the blushes, oh the blushes, and the glances of love and longing.

 

As the dawn crested and the cocks crowed, Eric slipped away, donned his cloak of fur and feathers and hid in the kitchens once more.

 

That night, when Prince Jack returned his tray, he could talk of nothing else but the beautiful young man with whom he had danced. Eric listened from the shadows as he scrubbed the floor.

 

Prince Jack’s happy mood lasted many days, and the snow stopped falling, and folks glimpsed the sun through thinning clouds. But eventually, his black mood returned and the snow with it.

 

The King and Queen, pleased with the development, held a second ball.

 

And again, after the food was served, Johnson once more snuck Eric out of the kitchens, this time dressed in his garment of silver. And again Prince Jack danced the remainder of the night with none but Eric, eyes only for Eric. And again the blushes and the glances and perhaps this time the murmur of whispered fondness in Eric’s ear.

 

His mood lasted far longer, and the snow began disappearing, and a patch of blue sky could be seen. People talked that this mysterious man had come to save their Prince.

 

When Jack’s dark mood returned once again, a third ball was held and Eric once more prepared to dance with Jack, this time wearing his garment of stars.

 

Just as he would have stepped into the ballroom, however, another entered first.

 

Eric, confused, watched as the young man, also golden of hair, similar build and height, crossed the floor before him. He was dressed in velvet of the deepest black and on his head lay a thin silver circlet. What was most remarkable, he looked similar enough to Eric that most would not have noticed the difference.

 

He walked with more confidence than Eric ever had and boldly climbed the dais stairs. From where Eric stood, even he could see Jack’s confusion as the young man bowed, stepped up to Jack and kissed him on the cheek.

 

He watched, horror struck, as Jack, the colour draining from his face, shook his head slightly, bent and took the stranger in his arms and kissed him, kissed him in front of all those who were there, kissed him in front of Eric, who’s heart began to break.

 

Prince Jack released the stranger from the kiss, held onto him with his arm around his waist and stepped forward. Lifting the stranger’s hand to his mouth, he kissed the back of it and said, “To all who are here, this man is my savior, for it is he who has come to every ball to dance with me and with my pledge of marriage to him, it is he who has finally broken the spell of winter on my heart and our land.”

 

The crowd cheered. Eric stepped back into shadows and crying, sought refuge in the kitchens, cloaked once more, where all were celebrating the release of their Prince and the return of spring.

 

Johnson found Eric huddled in the corner by the fireplace.

 

“Do not worry, young Eric. This is but the set back all heroes face when on a quest. You will still marry the Prince, for you have already won his heart. How else had winter begun to be defeated? This stranger is but a wrinkle. You shall figure this out and prevail.”

 

Eric nodded and gathered his courage, set back to work creating a breakfast that would entice Prince Jack.

 

But alas, his heart already sore and battered, hurt once more close to breaking, when news reached the kitchen that Prince Jack had already slipped away in the night to be married and would be returning in a fortnight from his honeymoon.

 

The time came for the Prince to return home. The servants gathered in front of the palace as Prince Jack and his new husband came through the gates in their carriage. Everyone waved and cheered as they stepped out and Jack once again held up his husband’s hand and kissed the back of it.

 

“My people,” he said. “Please greet my new husband, Prince Kent. My only hope is that you will love him as I do.” All cheered again, except for Eric. Eric could see that although Jack smiled and seemed pleasant, his face remained winter pale and the smile only lay upon his lips.

 

He crept away, back to the kitchen to think.

 

Later that day, Prince Jack came into the kitchens and asked to see Eric.

 

“My young friend, I hope you are well. I would like for you to create one of your simple meals for my beloved and myself. I have raved about your cooking, and he is anxious to try it.”

 

“Of course, Your Highness.”

 

Eric cooked the rest of the day, putting all of his efforts into the meal. He laid two trays, one for Jack and one for Kent. And when they were ready, placed a note on Kent’s tray, hidden in the napkin. It said,

 

_He will want to see you dressed in the garment of gold. I can give it to you for a favor. Meet me in the kitchens at midnight._

 

Midnight came and went and as expected Prince Kent entered. All the other staff had left for bed, and Eric was there, curled up in the corner by the fireplace.

 

“I wondered if you would still be here,” Prince Kent said to Eric. “You almost ruined my plans. For it is I, as you may have guessed, who enchanted Prince Jack the day he road into the forest. It is I, who caused winter in his heart and on the land. But I really should thank you instead, for by your interference I married him sooner and therefore sooner I shall be King.”

 

Eric said nothing but held out the garment of gold. Kent made to snatch it from him, but Eric held fast.

 

“I will give it to you for a favor.”

 

“Ah, so you said in your note. And what is that favor?”

 

“Let me lay with your husband for one night, from dusk to the crowing of the cock, and I shall give you the garment.”

 

The corner of Kent’s mouth lifted, and his eyes gleamed in the firelight, but they were hard and cruel. “Very well, for there is nothing you can say to persuade him that you are the true savior of his heart. And you are quite right; he has asked to see the golden garment once more.”

 

They arranged for the tryst to start on the following night.

 

When dusk fell, Eric left the kitchen, golden garment in hand and went to the Prince’s chambers. Entering the darkened room, he slipped off the cloak and climbed into the large bed.

 

He kissed Jack’s forehead and shook him gently. But Jack slumbered on. Eric cried and pleaded, but Jack slumbered on. He lay with his head on Jack’s chest, listened to his dear heart beat, heard his breathing, and he wept bitter tears, for nothing he could do or say could awaken the Prince.

 

When dawn broke, Eric dared to kiss Jack upon his pale lips, whisper his love for him and slipped out of the chambers. Prince Kent stood there, his hand held out and Eric placed the golden garment into it and left.

 

That night, Eric sent up two more trays, Kent’s containing another note, telling him about the garment of silver.

 

Again Kent met with him in the kitchen and bargained the following night in trade for the garment.

 

The next night came, and again Eric slipped into Jack’s chambers and again pleaded with him to wake, kissed his pale lips with the dawn and left.

 

He thought about what had happened and knew that Prince Kent had drugged Prince Jack.

 

And he planned what he must do next. He planned carefully. Walking through the woods, he called to his little friends. They came scurrying, eager to help. Eric told them what to do and sent them to Prince Jack throughout the day.

 

Jack had planned to ride out in the countryside, to meet with the people of the land. Kent, bored with the idea of seeing commoners, declined at the last minute and stayed behind, claiming a headache.

 

Jack rode out alone and spent a lovely day greeting all he met. He wore a far happier smile than he had before, although his heart still lay troubled and he felt he had missed something or perhaps it felt more like he missed someone.

 

As he rode, the sunshine finally returned and spring in its full glory, he kept hearing his name. Birds would sweep past him and call out ‘Prince Jack, Prince Jack, listen to us’ and as the day wore on it change to ‘Prince Jack, Prince Jack, Eric loves you, Eric loves you.' As he rode closer to the palace squirrels and mice ran beside his horse and chattered at him “Eric is the Prince from the ball, Eric is the Prince from the ball’.

 

As night fell, he returned, his heart heavy and his mind confused. Prince Kent waited for him as he came through the gates and greeted him.

 

“My husband, you look tired and sore. Come, a bath is waiting for you and so is supper.” Jack kissed him and made his way to the chambers. He undressed and sat in the water, thinking hard about the strangeness of the day.

 

Prince Kent washed his back and asked him how it had been, and Jack said, “All is well, and the people love you as they do me.” And Kent hummed, pleased.

 

When supper was served, Jack remained quiet, eating Eric’s good food. Halfway through, he could not stay silent any longer and said, “You are not the Prince who danced with me at the two balls are you?”

 

Prince Kent, a wicked smile upon his lips, said, “No, in fact, I am not. I am the one who enchanted you in the forest and placed you under the spell of winter.” He kissed Jack, deeply and said, “You are now mine, and you shall always be, and only true love can truly wake you, but your true love shall be dead within the week. “

 

Jack paled and clutched his hair as the darkness returned.

 

In the morning Prince Kent let it be known that Prince Jack had succumbed to the darkness yet again and told the palace to prepare for winter’s return. He said that Eric had been discovered as the evil behind the enchantment. Eric had entranced their prince and then to ensure he remained under the spell had worked in the kitchen. His food had been magic and had lifted the spell briefly to make it seem he was curing him.

 

Eric, warned by Johnson, slipped out of the palace, with his knapsack, his cloak, and his skates, once more on the run, but he did not go far.

 

He hid deep in the forest and waited while winter returned. His little friends helped him survive and hid him when the guards from the palace rode through in search. After many weeks, with winter back, he ventured out one night. He crept back to the palace and stood outside. Wearing the garment of stars, he climbed the gates and walked to the gardens behind the palace. There lay a pond, frozen with winter’s return. Lacing up his skates, he stepped out onto the ice. As he skated, the clouds drew back and the light of the moon shone down on him, his garment of stars sparkling.

 

Jack awoke from a deep sleep, as if someone beloved had called his name. He crossed to the window and drew back the curtain. Out in the garden, he could see someone out on the pond, the light from the moon gathering on the figure. Quickly he dressed, and quietly he snuck out to the garden, his heart racing.

 

Stepping out into the gardens and the moonlight, with the snow thick over the slumbering flowerbeds, he stood and watched. The light gleamed and glistened. The air held a bite, and ice crystals drifted down from the stars. Calm descended on him. The beauty of the night held so much peace. His heart, beating like a bird, he watched as the skater moved, arms extended, graceful. A turn and back, he swirled and flowed, like the wind or a bird, light and lithe. Entranced, Jack watched until finally the figure slowed and stopped and turned to Jack.

 

“Eric,” he whispered.

 

“Jack,” said Eric.

 

Jack stepped to the edge of the pond and Eric skated up to him and stepped onto the snowy bank. Jack placed his hand on Eric’s cheek.

 

“I had no idea. I had no idea all of this time, you were the one who saved me from the darkness. You are the one I love.” He kissed Eric, lightly upon the lips, to pledge to him. He held Eric tightly, to show him he would never ever let him go. And as they kissed, oh how they kissed, the snow melted around them; the breeze blew warm. Spring returned and this time would never be strayed from its natural course.

 

When they returned to the palace, hand in hand, it was soon discovered that Prince Kent had vanished.

 

The King and Queen were woken, and then the whole palace and the story told from start to finish.

 

Johnson, down in the kitchen, smiled.

 

For he, of all of them, had known, from start to finish the whole of the story. How it had begun and how it would end.

 

And you may ask why he had not said before the whole of the tale and how it would end.

 

But if he had told the whole of the tale at the beginning, there would not have been a story.


End file.
